


So, We're Married?

by jooliewrites



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Amnesia, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hospitals, M/M, Married Coliver, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-24 00:31:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6135285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jooliewrites/pseuds/jooliewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beep of the heart monitor sounds overly loud in the silent, sterile room. Ignoring how to constant jolt of sound is fraying his already scattered nerves, Connor surveys the guy standing off to his right. </p><p>The man had told Connor his name was Oliver. </p><p>The doctor had told Connor the man was his husband. </p><p>“So.” Connor waits until Oliver looks up. “We’re married?"</p><p>“Yeah,” Oliver whispers out through the punch to his gut. “We’re married.”</p><p>+</p><p>A Coliver Amnesia AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted [here](http://ramblesandreblogs.tumblr.com/post/136956268233/caring-for-each-other-while-ill-from-this) and [here.](http://ramblesandreblogs.tumblr.com/post/137512990093/13-kiss-me-from-this-list-an-this-is-more-a)

The beep of the heart monitor sounds overly loud in the silent, sterile room. Ignoring how to constant jolt of sound is fraying his already scattered nerves, Connor surveys the guy standing off to his right.

The man is tall, maybe just a bit taller than Connor himself. His dark hair is cropped short but is still mussed, like he’s spent a good part of time fussing with it. The eyes behind his heavy, black frames look exhausted and heartbroken.

The man had told Connor his name was Oliver.

The doctor had told Connor the man was his husband.

“So.” Connor waits until Oliver looks up. “We’re married?”

“Yeah,” Oliver whispers out through the punch to his gut. Did Connor really have to sound so shocked that they were married? “We’re married.”

“How long?”

“Three years,” Oliver tells him. “Four in April. April 27th.”

Connor looks away at that, fussing with his hospital blanket and avoiding Oliver’s eyes. In turn, Oliver looks back at the monitors buzzing and beeping with Connor’s every breath and heartbeat.

Connor may find the noises unnerving but they’ve been Oliver’s lullaby the past four nights. The humming and whirring reminding Oliver that his husband was alive despite how still he’d been all that time.

“So, where’s my mom?” Connor asks and, not for the first time, Oliver wants to reach out.

Connor looks so small just then, swimming in a hospital gown just a bit too big for him. The cuts on his face and neck are healing and the bruises are fading to a sickening yellow but Connor is still so pale. His face is taught and sunken and his lips are dry despite the chapstick Oliver’d applied while Connor slept.

Oliver wants to reach out and take Connor’s hand, rub his cheek, kiss the bruise yellowing at Connor’s temple. Oliver wants to wrap his arms around Connor and bury his face in Connor’s hair. He wants to whisper in Connor’s ear how much he loves him and how scared he’s been and how Connor is never ever again allowed to do anything like this for as long as they both shall live.

But Oliver doesn’t do any of those things. Connor’s scared and confused and hurting. He doesn’t want a stranger to tell him he loves him. Connor wants his mom, someone familiar and trusting who will hold him close and assure that everything is going to be alright.

“She’s coming,” Oliver tells him. “I called her when you woke up. She should be here soon.”

Connor nods quickly, blinking away unshed tears.

“She’s staying with us,” Oliver’s quick to add. He doesn’t know why he’s telling Connor any of this. Connor probably doesn’t care; Oliver just doesn’t think he can take another moment of awkward silence with his husband. “In the guest room. We thought it’d be easier than a hotel for now.”

“Hotel?”

“Yeah. She flew in from Michigan when I called to tell them about…”

Connor juts blinks at him. Still confused. “We aren’t in Michigan?”

Oliver shakes his head. “Philadelphia. We’re in-”

“Right.” Connor nods. “Philly. Yeah. They…ah…they told me that.”

Connor picks at his fingernail and glances out the window. He doesn’t want to admit that he’d forgotten that bit the doctors had told him. It’s bad enough he’s seemed to have forgotten everything else. Connor doesn’t want to admit that this whole day seems a little fuzzy too. He doesn’t want to admit he’s afraid he’s going to forget all of this as well.

The silence is back between them.

“I’ve spoken with Gemma too,” Oliver offers. “Your sister? She’s going to head down tomorrow. She wanted to come sooner but the kids and everything…”

“Yeah.” Connor’s breath is shaky but they both ignore it. “God knows Mark’s probably useless with babies.”

Connor grins a bit and Oliver doesn’t have the heart to tell him Mark and Gemma divorced two years ago and that the babies he’s referring to are in junior high now. With that grin, Connor almost looks like his Connor and Oliver doesn’t want to ruin it.

From the hallway, Oliver hears “Where’s my son?! Walsh. Hampton-Walsh. I don’t – Connor. His name is Connor and he’s awake. Oliver told me. Where is he?!?” and Oliver knows that’s his cue.

“I’m just gonna,” Oliver gestures out into the hall. “I’ll give you two a minute.”

“Oh. Okay.” Connor tries to hide his relief at the news but Oliver still catches it. He tries not to take the way subtle relaxing of Connor’s shoulders personally but fails.

Oliver stands there for another moment, waiting for god knows what before finally moving. “Okay then. I’ll just see you-”

“Ollie,” Connor says then blinks. “Do I call you Ollie?”

“Yeah,” Oliver chokes out. Why does hearing Connor say his name hurt so much? He licks his lips. “Sometimes.”

Connor presses his lips together and puzzles why they taste like strawberry. “Well, thanks, Ollie.”

Connor holds out his hand and Oliver’s shakes when he takes it. Then, Oliver takes a step closer and presses a gentle kiss to Connor’s forehead. He closes his eyes and revels in the perfect feeling of Connor’s warm skin under his lips.

“Love you,” Oliver whispers even though he knows he shouldn’t.

With that, he steps back and they drop each other’s hands. When Mrs. Walsh bursts in, a whirl of frantic energy, Oliver bows out of the room with a nod.

Outside, he quickly makes his way down the hall. There’s a stairwell down there and Oliver figures it’s the perfect place to breakdown in peace.


	2. Chapter 2

“Oliver, why are you frowning in all of these pictures?” Connor calls out in question as he swipes through the photos on Oliver’s tablet.

“Which pictures?” Oliver asks as he rounds corner coming back from the kitchen, glasses of water in each hand. “Where are we?”

Connor puzzles as he glances back down. “I don’t know. There’s a beach.”

“Lemme see.” Oliver tilts the tablet to check. “Oh. St. Barts. And I’m not frowning.”

“Then what’s that?” Connor points to a picture where Oliver is clearly frowning.

“I was squinting. The sun was in my eyes.”

“You were frowning.” Connor hooks an arm over the back of the couch and presses the point. “Why were you frowning?”

Oliver shakes his head and stalls by taking a sip of water.

He doesn’t want to tell Connor that he is frowning in the pictures of a vacation they took six years ago because they’d been fighting. It hadn’t been a big fight - honestly, Oliver doesn’t even remember what the fight was about - but they’d bickered about something and Connor defused the situation by taking stupid pictures of Oliver frowning on vacation.

Oliver can still see Connor snapping the last shot and holding up a hand to block the sun as he glanced at the screen.

“Perfect,” Connor had said before holding out the phone for Oliver to see. “What do you think? Instagram worthy?” Oliver’s glare had done nothing to deter Connor. “What should the hashtag be? Gay grumps take St. Barts?”

Despite himself, Oliver had smiled and said with affection, “You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah.” Connor abandoned the phone and his lounge chair to sit near Oliver’s hip. “But I’m your asshole.”

“That’s disgusting,” Oliver chuckled. “Stop being cute. I’m mad at you.”

“Are you though, Ollie? Are you really?” Connor had grinned and leaned down until his lips almost brushed Oliver’s. “Kiss me,” Connor had whispered darkly and Oliver had right there on the sun drenched beach for all to see.

Snapping back to the present when Connor puts a hand on his arm, Oliver shakes his head to clear out the memory, a memory that only Oliver still has. The accident weeks ago had wiped away most of Connor’s memories from the last ten years. Some things were coming back to him in dreams and flashes but, on the whole, everything was blank. Following doctor’s orders, they’d been trying to jog Connor’s memories back with familiar people and places.

Oliver had taken Connor out to their bar and told him how they met. They’d walked over the Middleton campus and even driven by Annalise Keating’s old offices. They’d snuck into Oliver’s old building and walked past the gold 303 of their former place. Connor’s office let him come in for a day and he’d spent the time with his assistant, following closely as the woman led him through a typical day in the life of Connor Hampton-Walsh, JD.

Back at home, Oliver had made Connor’s favorite foods and they’d rewatched all of Connor’s favorite movies. Connor spent hours digging through his closet and combing through his home office. After dinner, Oliver pulled his tablet and they’d spent hours flipping through photos and reading old emails.

On their trip down memory lane, Oliver had been honest with Connor. He hadn’t glossed over the grittier details of their past because every bit helped. But then Connor would press on little things like this and Oliver wanted so bad to tell a little white lie, paint their history just a little rosier than it was.

“Oliver?” Connor gently asks again. “Why were you frowning.”

“Because…” Oliver lets the sigh drag out. “Because we were fighting.”

“About what?”

Oliver shakes his head. “I don’t remember – I really don’t – but I was pissed at you. That’s why I’m frowning.”

Connor puzzles over this. “Why did I take a picture of that?”

“You were being funny. Cheeky. Trying to make me laugh.”

Connor glances down again to look at the picture anew before continuing to scroll through the pictures and Oliver lets his head fall heavily against the back of the couch. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. Having to explain every nuance of their relationship, explain they way they interacted, it broke his heart just a little bit more every day.

“Hey, what’s this?” Connor angles the screen so Oliver could see before clicking play on a video file.

“Oh.” Oliver rubs a nervous hand at the back of his neck as he sits up. He’d forgotten this existed. “It’s…it’s our engagement video.” They watch the dark, grainy footage for a moment before Oliver rushes on to explain. “You asked Michaela - you remember Michaela? We had dinner with her last week.”

Connor nods, eyes fixed on the screen. That night they’d taken him to a coffee shop Michaela said they used to frequent in law school. Following her advice, Connor had ordered the chicken salad sandwich and a chai latte. Throughout dinner, Oliver had watched him with that look Connor’d become far too familiar with, that hoping, pleading look. Then, as they were heading home, Oliver had turned expectantly but Connor had been quick to shake his head. The meal had done nothing but curb his appetite.

“Well, you asked Michaela to film it,” Oliver’s continuing to explain. “You wanted…wanted the memory.”

Connor nods once, still focused on the video but the sound is too low. He clicks the volume up but still can’t hear. “What am I saying?”

“Ah. We’d just had dinner. I think we’re talking about the food. We had a weird waiter that night. Too…familiar,” Oliver tells him.

“Familiar?”

“Yeah. It made dinner a little weird.”

They both fall silent as they watch the clip. Screen Connor pulls up short and Oliver turns back with question, their joined hands hang between them. Then screen Oliver’s hand goes to his mouth when Connor drops down to one knee.

“What am I saying now?” Connor whispers.

Oliver squeezes his eyes shut and swallows down the lump in his throat. He doesn’t need to watch for the memory to come rushing back. “You’re telling me that you love me,” Oliver whispers slowly. “And how I’m the best man you’ve known. How loving me has changed you, made you want to be a better man, better partner. How I-”

On screen, Oliver is shaking his head and interrupts Connor. “What did you say then?” Connor asks. “Why’d you interrupt?”

“You said how I make you want to be a better partner, someone who is worthy of my love. And I corrected you.” Oliver glances over and Connor’s breath catches in his throat. “You’ve always been worthy of my love.”

The silence hums between them and Connor’s afraid to look away but the spell is broken by a loud whoop from Michaela on the tablet.

Oliver looks back down with a smile. On the video, he’s tackled Connor, kissing him fast and furious with knees on either side of Connor’s hips. Connor’s hands are on Oliver’s hips then run up to brush his fingers in Oliver’s hair.

“I didn’t let you finish,” Oliver tells Connor as the clip abruptly ends as Michaela runs out from her hiding spot. “You teased me about that for days. ‘I had this whole thing, Ollie, and you didn’t let me say it.’”

Connor nods once again but doesn’t say anything, doesn’t trust himself to not say the wrong thing.

Eventually, Oliver can’t take it anymore. “Anything?” he cautiously asks. “Anything at all?”

For the first time, Connor hesitates before shaking his head. The video had been different. It wasn’t like seeing the pictures or hearing stories. It was almost easy with both of those to pretend like he was looking at someone else, hearing about someone else. But seeing himself, watching as he dropped down to one knee, shifted something in Connor, changed the stakes. He didn’t want to lie to Oliver but he didn’t want to hurt him either.

“No,” Connor whispers and hates the way Oliver’s head falls. “But…” He reaches out and covers Oliver’s hand with his. He doesn’t know how to say this right so he just says it slowly instead. “But I really love you, don’t I?”

“Yeah.” Oliver laces Connor’s fingers with his. “You really do.”

“Then maybe that’s enough.” Connor looks down at their joined hands as he considers.

He’s tired of trying to be someone else, trying to remember a lifetime’s worth of memories. Every morning when he gets up and Connor feels like he’s putting on Connor Hampton-Walsh. He keeps trying to be the man Oliver remembers and keeps failing. Connor doesn’t want to fail anymore. Connor doesn’t want to fail the man sitting next to him anymore. Connor doesn’t know if he’ll ever really be the man Oliver remembers ever again but – but maybe he could still be the man who loves Oliver.

“Maybe I should just try to do that – just try to love you – instead of trying to remember everything,” Connor whispers.

“If that’s what you want,” Oliver offers.

Connor thinks about Oliver loving him so much he didn’t let Connor finish their proposal. He thinks about Oliver taking him down memory lane, about Oliver reliving the worst days of their lives and pulling all the skeletons out of their closets for Connor to peruse all over again. Connor thinks about being worthy, being better, being loved.

“It’s what I want.” Connor squeezes Oliver’s fingers slightly and tries out the words. “I love you, Oliver.”

Oliver swallows down a sob. He can see Connor doesn’t really mean it. It’s a test of his muscle memory, seeing how the words feel in his mouth. Connor’s trying out the words the way you test drive a car, letting them go on the open road to see how they fit. But Oliver doesn’t care, he’s too desperate and needy to give a damn.

“I love you too, Connor.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://ramblesandreblogs.tumblr.com)


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